


How To Date Your Enemy

by pateshie



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Bad Puns, M/M, Quidditch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-25
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-17 00:20:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1367044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pateshie/pseuds/pateshie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eren Jaeger is the freshly-crowned Gryffindor Seeker and he's determined to lead his house to the cup. The only thing standing in his way is an irritable Slytherin named Levi, more commonly known as Humanity's Strongest Seeker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Eren Jaeger knows there’s only one reason he comes back to the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry every year.

Quidditch.

Of course the delicious food is a factor, the magic is pretty cool and he does like meeting his friends.

But nothing makes him feel the way soaring fifty feet off the ground on a wispy wooden stick does. Nothing can touch him there. The colors blur like an old Muggle painting, and every sound becomes a low whistle in his ear. When he’s on his broom, it’s just him and that flighty, golden son of a snitch.

It’s not uncommon to see him stalking off to the pitch come rain or sunshine, his broom tucked under one arm. If he’s sad, he’ll fly and if he’s happy, he’ll fly faster.  


Sometimes he just traces loops in the air, flying in and out of the goalposts like the thoughts darting through his mind. 

On some days he prefers honing his agility, lowering himself till his nose is brushing the handle and pushing his broom to its limit. He doesn’t notice his sister waving to him from the stands until he’s slowed down to a more leisurely pace.

He floats over to her lazily, his toes brushing the tops of the bleachers.

“What’s up?” He hops off his Nimbus 3000 and settles next to her.

“The first match’s been fixed!” She sounds out of breath. Maybe she ran here. Mikasa is a stoic girl – the opposite of Eren in fact – but Quidditch means just as much to her as it does to him.

He still remembers the day of tryouts. He had woken up extra early and was doing a few practice laps around the very first trees of the (once) Forbidden Forest when a familiar figure caught his eye. Behind the figure streamed an unmistakable, deep ruby red scarf. It was Mikasa. She was holding a broom he had never seen before and making her way determinedly to the pitch. 

It was obvious to him why his sister was trying out for Quidditch. Like everything else, she was determined to keep an eye on Eren during this too. It wasn’t like he didn’t love his sister. It was more like she was everywhere and sometimes he got a little tired. He decided not to kick up a fuss though, that would only make her more determined. Plus she probably wouldn’t make the cut anyway.

God, he was such an idiot to have underestimated her. She flew circles around everyone there that morning. (Although he has since heard theirs was the most dismal batch of entrants in years.) But, perhaps as a courtesy to him and thank heaven for that, she hadn’t tried out for the same spot he had. She had tried out for Chaser and it was obvious, even before she got off her broom, that she was in. 

It had been a little tougher for Eren. The team wasn’t looking for a Seeker the year he tried out but he had been adamant (maybe foolishly so because he chased a make-believe snitch for seven minutes). Whatever it was, in the end it worked and their ex-Captain chose him to be his direct successor and Seeker-in-training. He sat through most of their matches for the first year and a half until last year, when he was finally let out onto the field. He still remembers that feeling – he filed it away in a little corner of his brain under the words “pure exhilaration”. It felt even better than the first time he jacked off, which, for a horny teenager, is saying a lot.

Mikasa had been slower to warm to their sport, even though she is basically a prodigy. Her ruthlessness is famous and most Keepers claimed to see their life flash before their eyes as she hurtled towards them. She would do anything to get the quaffle through that hoop and nine out of ten times, she did. In the beginning Eren had been a bit (alright, a lot) jealous of how quickly she rose in the ranks but thankfully his position as seeker has stroked his ego enough for him to let it go.

Now they work well together, Mikasa keeping them in the lead buys Eren enough time to get his job done. They’re a formidable team, if he were to be honest.

He’s feeling pretty confident when he leans back, drapes an arm over his sister’s shoulders and asks, “So, who is it this time?”

She turns to him with a grimace.

“Slytherin.”

 

 

 

 

The next morning Eren is twenty minutes late to breakfast. He spends the time he should be waking up thrashing around in his bed, dreaming he accidentally shrunk the snitch and they have to forfeit the match after it flies up his left nostril.

When he finally jolts awake he’s so, so confused and it’s a wonder he makes it out of the dorm at all. The Fat Lady makes her usual remark about his unruly hair and he flips her off as he usually does, prompting her to flee her frame with an affronted shriek.

Breakfast is in full swing as he slips into the Great Hall and hurriedly makes his way to their table. Something warm roars sleepily in his chest as he notices the empty seat next to Mikasa. As a fourth year and a Quidditch star, it’s about time he started getting some respect around here. 

“’Ssup, Mikaaaaa–” He stops short as an enormous yawn forces its way out of his mouth. His sister rolls her eyes and sticks a piece of bread in his mouth.

“Eat up or you’ll be late for Potions,” she says.

Eren spits the bread out onto the empty plate in front of him. From nine seats down Jean Krischtein, his classmate and their Keeper, pulls a face.

Eren is contemplating if his neigh would reach Jean over all the noise when someone taps on his shoulder. He turns around to see his childhood best friend beaming at him.

“Armin alert!” he hollers and Mikasa turns her attention back to him.

“Hi, Armin,” she says with a warm smile.

“Hi, you guys,” Armin chirps back. He’s doing that little thing he does, swaying back and forth on his feet like he has too much energy to stay still. 

It had kind of bummed Eren out a lot that Armin was sorted into Ravenclaw but he’s made his peace with it. They get to see each other a lot and, if things work out, they’ll have most of their classes together once they pass their O.W.Ls. Of course that’s easier said than done for Eren – he’s not the brightest student.

“You guys excited for Potions?” Armin asks and he shakes his head. “I’ve already had this class and its pretty cool. It’s the first time we’re working with bitterroot, which is pretty tricky of course but Professor Bean said it’s one of the mainstays of antidotes so–”

“What’ve you got first?” Eren cuts in.

“Defence,” Armin murmurs and Eren whistles.

“Is that why you’re extra excited?”

“No,” Armin answers a bit too quickly. “I’m actually excited about the first match of the season because my best friends are playing.” He flips his bangs out of his eyes. “The whole school is talking about it!”

Eren takes a long sip of his pomegranate juice. “Why’s that?” he asks, licking his upper lip clean. No one likes a juice mustache and he knows Rachel Yoo, who’s sitting two tables away, has a thing for him. They had talked on the Express last Saturday and he’d lost count of the number of times he hadn’t cracked a joke and she’d laughed anyway.

“Because Levi’s playing again.” Armin looks at him like he can’t believe he had to say that out loud.

Make no mistake, Eren knows who Levi is. There isn’t a student at their school who doesn’t. The stormy-eyed Slytherin Seeker is practically legend and there are several stories attached to his name, like the fact that he used to be a Prefect but lost the title three weeks in after he broke another student’s leg. The most disturbing part is he didn’t even use a wand. There are rumors that he’s a Muggle but they’ve never been confirmed. So after carefully filtering through the storm of gossip and fangirling surrounding Levi Last-name-unconfirmed, there are three things Eren can say he knows about the older boy for sure:

1\. Levi is very, very short.  
2\. Levi is usually very, very angry.  
3\. Levi was forced to sit out the half of last season that Eren played because of a mysteriously obtained injury and the match two weeks from now is his much-touted comeback during which he will, in all likelihood, kick Eren’s ass.

“So?” He reaches across the table for orange. “It’s quite rude to think the fate of a team hinges on just one player, you know.”

Mikasa raises her eyebrows. “But it’s a fact that Slytherin had a miserable season last year.” 

Armin nods. “Exactly! Word is Levi is determined to get scouted this year,” he says before leaning closer, “and he even spent three weeks training with the ex-coach of the Titans this summer.”

“Bullshit,” Eren grunts. His friends laugh when he squeezes the segment in his hand too hard and ends up accidentally squirting himself in the eye.

“We should practice as if it’s true.” Mikasa turns her fork upside-down and her plate disappears. “I’m going to talk to Eld about this.”

Eren watches her go with the eye that is not watering profusely. He kind of wants to hide behind her and not have to face Levi but he has too much pride to do that. For now at least. He might change his mind in the next few weeks.

 

 

 

 

“Hide,” Eren hisses.

Mikasa ignores him in favor of leaning forward and studying Levi even more intently. The two are gatecrashing the senior’s practice session. This is not something Eren is thrilled about. He really was hoping his sister would be more discreet but she’s never been one to turn down a challenge.

He bites down a squeak as Levi flies past their stand, slower than he’s been all afternoon, and their eyes meet for heart-stopping second. He looks really pissed. This was a terrible idea. Eren decides Mikasa is old enough to look after herself and quietly crawls over to the stairs and then down them.

 

 

 

 

“Boo.”

Eren screams.

His accoster laughs. “Not feeling so brave anymore, brat?”

“You surprised me,” Eren says. It’s lame but it's the truth. He was on his way to the library and he wasn’t expecting Levi to pop out of the shadows like that.

“Likewise. Would you care to explain yourself?” Levi glares up at him. There is some consolation in the fact that, despite being four years older than Eren, Levi is also four inches shorter than him.

“We were just doing some friendly research,” Eren says after a pause. It’s the safest answer he can think of. Levi doesn’t look like he’d buy any bullshit right now.

“And?”

Eren blinks. “And?”

“What did you conclude?” Levi leans against the wall.

“You’re really good,” Eren says honestly and, before he can help himself adds, “I’m terrified.”

“It’s good to know you’re not as dumb as you look.” Levi straightens and pins him with his stormy stare. “If you or any of your teammates crash my practice ever again, I will shove a broom up your ass. Not their ass, your ass. Are we clear?”

“Y-yes,” Eren stammers out.

“Good. Have a nice day, Jaeger.”

 

 

 

 

“He what?” Mikasa hisses and Eren flaps his arms around emphatically.

“It was nothing!” He holds out the remaining half of his Chocolate Frog and she snatches it from him. The card is lying discarded on the floor. It’s a Harry Potter. He already has 19 of those. “But I don’t think we should spy on him anymore.”

“We won’t need to.” Mikasa takes a violent bite. “I have enough notes and Eld used to train with Levi so I dare say we know enough. Who does he think he is though, threatening us like that?” She turns to Eren, her eyes narrowed. “You better rub his face into the ground or I will kick your ass.”

Eren groans. Who needs enemies when they have friends like his?

 

 

 

 

“Hey, Jean,” Armin calls out, “can I borrow the Prophet?”

“Of course, Min.” Jean hands the blonde his rather poorly refolded copy of the wizarding daily.

“Thanks!” Armin beams and Eren makes a loud retching noise.

“Who the fuck said you can call him Min?” he demands.

“He did,” Jean says smugly.

Eren turns to his friend. “When did you two talk?”

Armin shakes his head. “I am not going to grace that with an answer. Now if you’ll excuse me I should go back to my classmates. Thanks again, Jean!” He hurries off with a cute wave and Eren scowls.

“My own best friend and my worst enemy, cavorting under my very nose,” he mutters darkly.

“Hey, worst enemy.” Jean tosses an apple at him. “Practice at 3. See you then!”

 

 

 

 

 

Eren is practically vibrating in his seat as the clock ticks towards 3PM. It is a slow journey, he has a ton of classes today, but it’s something he can hold on to. It even makes Herbology bearable. He’s had the opportunity to fly around on his own since he’s been back but he really misses his team. There’s a certain thrill and cohesion to flying together he can’t find alone. He even finds Jean tolerable.

The sky is a half-way shade between blue and grey by the time Eren walks out on to the pitch. The fresh-cut grass stretches for a hundred feet all around him and he takes a deep breath. 

He’s the first one there and he curls up in the center, his broom by his side, and examines the conditions. There’s been an awful lot of rain lately but hopefully it will clear up by the time the season starts. He doesn’t have much experience playing in bad conditions. 

A hard knock to the back of his head pulls him out of his worries. “Hey, kid.”

Eren tips till he’s on his back and stares up at the boy standing above him. It’s Eld. 

“What’s up?” Eren asks, taking in his slightly annoyed expression.

“Nothing, just Slytherin being Slytherin,” Eld says darkly.

“What do you mean?” Eren sits up.

“They requested not to play the first match. Apparently a heated practice aggravated Levi’s injury.”

“What?” Eren clenches his teeth. “That’s bullshit! I saw him flying yesterday, he was fine.”

“Levi is not exactly famous for playing fair.”

“You used to play with him, right?”

“We trained together, the three of us. In the beginning it helped that we were all from different houses. But then we made the teams and you can imagine the rest.” Eld takes a look around and clicks his tongue. “This lot is as tardy as ever.”

“The three of you?” Eren jumps onto his feet and straightens his robes.

“Me, Levi and Petra,” Eld explains. “Come on, let’s get the balls out.”

Eren follows his captain to the coach’s room. There are four beat up wooden crates there – one for each of the houses. The equipment in them is worn out from years of practice. The one they use for matches is relatively newer. 

“How was your summer?”

“The usual.” Eren shrugs, hoisting the crate up and tucking it under his arm. He staggers for a millisecond but thankfully Eld hasn’t noticed. “I saw my dad twice, that was new. Who told you about Slytherin?”

“Coach Smith. I met him on my way here.” Eld signs them into the register. It helps the school keep track of who uses the pitch when. “He’s a great guy,” he says carefully, “but he does have a bit of a soft spot for Levi. He taught him to fly and most people credit him with whatever level of civility Levi has.”

He puts the quill down and makes for the door, Eren in tow.

“I’m not surprised he believed Levi. But this changes things. Everything I planned is useless, even this practice.”

“Who are we playing now?” Eren asks.

“Ravenclaw.”

 

 

 

 

The Ravenclaw seeker is a short blonde by the name of Annie Leonhart. Eren has seen her in action. She usually tails the other seeker, relentlessly and unnervingly, till they lead her to the prize. As time ticks by and pressure mounts the other seeker is forced to make a decision. A fatal one at that. He thinks he can outsmart Annie, lead her astray while subtly monitoring the snitch all along. It’s a valiant ruse that usually, alas, ends with the snitch in Annie’s small but capable hands. 

 

 

 

 

Not this time though. Eren’s been practicing for weeks and he’ll be damned before he lets Annie take the prize. Thanks to a few nights of sneaking out to meet Armin he has a plan. It’s definitely reckless, which is why he’s opted to keep everyone but Mikasa in the dark. There’s a high chance Eld will never forgive him but, to be fair, Annie has set the rules and Eren is just playing along.

When they traipse out on to the pitch half the stadium roars in approval. Their brooms are proud and their ruby robes are crisp like the breeze weaving through their hair. It’s a beautiful day.

Coach Smith is standing in the center. His handsome features are composed and his broom is tucked under his arm. Behind him, in robes of striking blue, is the Ravenclaw team. Eren recognizes all of them but he isn’t interested in anyone except Annie. She seems to mirror the feeling. Her cold blue eyes quickly lock onto him. Eren gives her a curt nod and, taking a deep breath, focuses on tuning the crowd out. It’s not easy – so many of the cheers jump out at him. His name, Mikasa’s name, his house name, but he knows there’ll be plenty of time to hear them after he’s won.

Erwin nods at the boys on either side of him. “Shake.”

Eld steps forward and briefly meets hands with the Ravenclaw captain.

“I want a fair game,” Erwin says. “The rules are the same as ever. If you hear my whistle, stop whatever you’re doing. Mount your brooms, please.”

The sharp blast of a whistle pierces through the morning air.

Fifteen figures kick off the ground. The chaos is immediate – a blur of red passes through the corner of Eren’s eye, his teammates in hot pursuit.

“And we’re off! Ravenclaw have got the Quaffle,” Connie Springer’s voice rings out, “a neat pass to Mara, well dodged there! Gryffindor are really coming for it, better watch out – oh, no, there it goes. Gryffindor in possession, Ackerman hurtling through the crowd, what a girl, Ravenclaw captain Thomas Wagner in hot pursiuit – almost thought she lost it there – Ackerman’s going strong, take a second to appreciate some spectacular flying by Gryffindor beater Reiner Braun – back to the Quaffle, its now with Pucey of Ravenclaw, when did that happen, folks – what a game, better keep your eyes peeled!”

Eren starts a fresh lap of the pitch, hugging the stands. Annie isn’t too far behind him. It’s been about twenty minutes and, as he had expected, she hasn’t cracked. There are times she veers off on her own, but for the most part, she has stuck with him. It makes it difficult for him to do anything. Thankfully, at this point, he doesn’t need to. He allows himself a moment when Mikasa scores, throwing his sister a grin as she rockets past, doing a few loop-the-loops to get the energy out of his system. 

“Gryffindor in possession,” Connie says, “Ravenclaw really need to step it up. Props to their beaters for keeping the Reds on their toes! The Seekers of both teams seem to be taking it easy right now. Thirty five minutes in and no sign of the snitch. It’s a flighty little fucke– sorry, Professor!” 

Eren laughs. He crosses over to the other side of the pitch, flying higher than the knot of action at the center. A roar sounds below him – probably a foul – but the game doesn’t stop so nor does he. He doubles back, determined to play with Annie a bit. Fifteen minutes later Mikasa has scored again. Twice.

A flash of gold. 

Eren ignores it. He can almost hear the gears in Annie’s head turning. She probably knows he’s on to her. He lets the snitch go and turns around till he’s hovering inches from the girl. It’s a deadlock.

“Your move,” Eren says cheerfully. “Better get that snitch if you want to win.”

Annie’s lip curls in blatant displeasure but she zips off and Eren hastily follows. Now it’s all up to his flying. Annie has the better broom and the better technique. He’s goaded her into seeking to improve his odds but they’re still heavily tipped in her favour. 

She tries every maneuver to throw him off but Eren is determined to follow her to the ends of the earth if he has to. Ravenclaw have finally scored, a small but significant factor that spurts him to try even harder, his lips moving, silently urging his broom on. 

“Impressive flying from the two Seekers but funny considering the snitch hasn’t been seen in again for a while no– no, no I definitely spoke too soon, that is unmistakably it on the far end of the pitch. Leonhart’s seen it too, she’s flat on her broom and heading straight for it, looks like she’s ready to get it. And Jaeger is… already diving, I’m not sure what’s happening but it’s definitely interesting, Jaeger is still a few meters behind Leonhart, she dives, he accelerates, it’s close, Merlin’s mullet, I think they might collide, isn't this blatching – Coach Smith is hesitating, I’ve never seen anything like it – Jaeger’s broom is looking rough, he’s barely hanging on but – wait a minute, he’s done it! Jaeger’s got the snitch, that’s the whistle there – GRYFFINDOR WIN!”

 

 

 

 

Eren barely remembers the walk back to the tower. His mind is still addled with adrenaline. As soon as let the snitch go he found himself with an armful of Armin and a furiously whispered, “You did it!”

They had celebrated, of course, with plenty of smuggled butterbeer and a precariously executed victory lap around the dorm. It’s the first match of the year and Eren can’t help the warm glow in his chest. 

“Good signs for good times, eh?” Jean had said, grinning.

Eren turns over so he can look out the window. There’s no way he’s getting any sleep tonight, not with the way his body is still thrumming. He sticks his legs out of the covers and sprawls out. What if they win the cup this year, how fucking amazing would that be?  
His pillow muffles his noise of delight. He hasn’t told anyone yet but there is nothing else he can imagine doing with his life. A school cup would be a surefire way to bigger things. He really, really wants to go professional.

Of course there are obstacles, like every remaining match of this season. Or Levi.

It’s funny and almost flattering to think the older boy considers Eren a threat. He’s not exactly social so the fact that he sought Eren out… Even if it hadn’t been the most pleasant of conversations, Eren is glad Levi noticed him. The grey-eyed boy is breathtaking on his broom. Maybe some day Eren could convince him to help him out. If he does go into the world of professional Quidditch, he has no doubts he will run into Levi. Some of the rumors are on the wild side but, at the end of the day, it is a universally acknowledged truth that Levi is a brilliant Seeker.

Eren blinks. It’s a bit weird of him to be lying awake in bed thinking about Levi of all people. But he can’t help wondering what the older boy thought of his flying today. Did he cringe at how obvious Eren's technique was? Or did he scoff at how childish? Or maybe his attention was focused on Mikasa who was just as decisive a factor in their win. It was her relentless scoring that bought Eren the time he needed.

Whatever Levi’s opinion of him, Eren is sure it has changed and a part of him is dying to find out how. 

For now there's only one new thing about Levi he knows for sure. 

4\. Slytherin will play Hufflepuff next.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren has a crush!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is that necessary little bit of filler you might have guessed is coming up.

“Armin, your eye is doing the thing again.” Eren leans across the table and pulls the butterbeer over to his side. “I think that’s enough for today.”

“Sorry.” Armin giggles and Eren bites back a laugh. His best friend is infamous in all four houses for his less than legendary alcohol tolerance. “It’s just been so long since I’ve been to the Broomsticks!”

“That’s because you take on so much extra work,” Mikasa reminds him. “This year’s really not all that bad.”

“I have to do the extra work if I want to be taken seriously.” 

She nods. Everyone knows Armin has wanted to be a Professor at Hogwarts since he learned to read.

“I met Hange in the library that day,” Armin continues, wiping some froth from the corner of his lips, “She has some amazing theories about Muggles! She wants to come back as a scholar too. Her mind is so agile. I don’t understand how she hangs around with Levi all day.”

“With Levi?” Eren looks up.

“Yeah, they’re supposedly best friends.” 

“Levi has best friends?” Mikasa raises a brow and Armin laughs.

“He’s had boyfriends too. He is human, Mikasa.”

Eren chokes on his butterbeer.

“Levi dates?”

His friends stare at him like he’s grown another head (he had once, but that was a long time ago).

“Just because you don’t does not mean he can’t.” Mikasa rolls her eyes.

“Excuse me, but who have you ever dated?”

She doesn’t answer.

“Mikasa!”

“What?” she growls.

“Tell me who you’re dating!”

Armin makes a noise, like he knows something Eren doesn’t. “Oh, wait, is it –?”

Mikasa nods and takes another sip of her drink. On the other side of the table Eren is three seconds away from threatening her with his wand. It wouldn’t end well but he doesn’t care about that right now.

“Who, who is it?” He shifts his attention to the sniggering blonde. “Armin! If you don’t tell me right now, I’ll tell Mikasa you kis–”

“Eren!” Armin lets out a strangled shout. His face is slowly turning beet red and Eren sits back in his chair, satisfied. Two can play this game. Or is it three? Technically it should be bu– He yelps when Mikasa slaps the back of his head.

“What was that for?”

“For being an asshole,” she says calmly. “I was joking, I’m not dating anyone. Now if you’re done throwing a tantrum,” she turns to Armin, “and you’re done getting high off butterbeer, can we look around?”

“Yes, mother.” Eren sniggers, catching Armin’s eye, and she throws them a dirty look. She winds her scarf back around her neck – there’s a nip in the wind today – and they head outside. The sky is a familiar shade of glowering grey.

“Where to?” Eren looks around.

“Honeydukes!” Armin says immediately and Eren crosses his arms.

“I am going to have to pass on that, sugarboy.”

“I’ll take him,” Mikasa offers. 

Eren nods. “I’ll be at Spintwitches if you need me.”

“Of course.” Mikasa shakes her head.

 

 

(“They have a self-replenishing pack of Every Flavour Beans, that is so conveni–”

“Hey, Armin.”

“What?”

“I know you kissed Jean.”

“…”)

 

 

“Well, if it isn’t my least favourite brat.”

Eren turns around to find Levi smirking at him from across the shop.

“What are you dying to get your grubby paws all over today?”

“The latest model of Merlin’s Meteor,” Eren answers, ignoring his first comment. 

Levi stares past him and whistles. “I can’t blame you, it’s gorgeous.”

“Yeah.” Eren runs a hand through his hair, cringing when he feels how greasy it is. Standing on the other end of the floor Levi cuts an immaculate figure – his silken hair falls with fascinating ease and his pale skin is unmarked. Unlike Eren, puberty has been kind to him.

He doesn’t even realize he’s staring until Levi raises an eyebrow. “So, um, why are you here?” he asks quickly.

“Stocking up,” Levi says. “I needed some wax, a new buffer and,” he holds up the bag in his other hand, “these.”

“Glardrags?” Eren reads out.

“Socks,” the older boy explains. “They’re charmed to start smelling when they get dirty. Very useful in our line of work.”

All Eren hears is _our_.

“Totally,” he says and Levi squints at him.

“You okay, brat?”

“Yes! I meant, um, cool socks.”

Levi looks like he’s trying not to laugh. “Thanks, brat.”

He turns and heads for the door, leaving Eren with barely two seconds to make a decision he would have normally spent two weeks agonizing over. 

“Levi, wait!” 

The senior pauses in the doorway.

“What?”

“I was just wondering if you were at the… match last week?”

“Of course I was?” 

“Oh.” Eren flushes. Levi is not making this easy. “What did you think?”

“What did I thi–”

“Keep the cold out, will ya!” the cashier shouts and Levi scowls. He shuts the door and walks over to Eren. 

“What did I think of what, brat?” Levi says once he’s standing in front of him and it takes all of Eren’s willpower to look him in the eye.

“Of me,” he says in a small voice.

“You were fine.”

“Oh.” Eren deflates a little. Of course Levi hadn’t paid him much attention. He’s the Slytherin captain and the best seeker in their school. His mind is probably nine steps ahead of Eren, there’s nothing he does that Levi hasn’t seen before.

There’s a long pause.

“Annie is easy to irritate,” Levi says eventually and Eren nods. “It’s good you took advantage of that. Your sister is something else too.”

 _Too_. Does that mean Eren is–?

“Her response time is amazing. But I imagine your other Chasers don’t appreciate her too much.”

He’s right. Mikasa is kind of a one-woman army and Dana has been awfully irrita– 

“Is that it?” 

“Huh?” Eren blinks.

“Can I go?” Levi points to the door.

“Yes.” Eren flushes a second time. “Sorry for keeping you.”

“It’s fine. See you around.”

 

 

“I made a fool of myself,” Eren whimpers. He’s slumped across the last bench.

Mikasa turns around and hisses at him to shut up. He snorts. It’s not like she’s any better. She’s sitting on the second last bench.

“You don’t understand,” he hisses back. “You don’t have any emotions!”

“I have one.” Mikasa turns around and if looks could kill, let’s just say Eren would not be able to say what he said next.

“Fine. I’m sorry.”

 

 

“Will you listen to me now?”

“I’m trying to have lunch, Eren.” 

 

 

 

“Eren, why are we meeting in the third floor bathroom?”

“So Mikasa can’t be here, obviously,” Eren says. “She thinks she’s too busy to hear about my love life. Well now she can’t even if she wants to.”

“Your love life?!” Armin stops examining the shiny new faucets and whips around to face his friend.

“My life,” Eren corrects.

“You said your love life.”

“No, no way.” Eren shakes his head.

“Yes, I’m sure you di– Where are you going?”

“To take a shit. Isn’t that why people come to a bathroom?” Eren laughs nervously. “Gotta make room for dinner.”

He scurries into the nearest stall and slams the door shut, leaving a very, very confused Armin behind. He holds his breath, willing his friend to leave and it is with rising relief that he hears his light footsteps walking away.

“Fuck, I’m screwed,” he groans. 

“There, there, dear. It can’t be that bad.”

“Get out, Myrtle!”

 

 

Eren knows Armin told Mikasa. He just knows it. He also knows she’s going to try to hound and counsel him every step of this twisted ass way, like she does with everything else.

That’s why he decides to skip dinner. There’s a 99.99% chance he’s going to hate himself for it in about an hour or two but it’s better than facing his sister and admitting he is now synonymous with every teenage girl in their school.

Levi.

Eren sorts. What’s so great about him anyway? Take away the broom and all you have is a short, grumpy teenager. Nothing he hasn’t seen before. Hell, even Armin fits that description during exam time. He’s probably mistaking admiration for something more. He loves Quidditch, so it makes sense if he’d get confused and think he loves things associated with it. He’s only a wizard after all. 

“Love is overrated,” a voice behind him says and Eren starts. Did he say all that out loud? “But not more than marriage,” the portrait – Anne Boleyn, if he remembers correctly – continues. “Listen to me, little boy, don’t let them trap you in their promises. They’re going to break your tiny ol’ heart and now wouldn’t that be a shame? It would, it would.” Her dark eyes are unfocussed as they fix on him and Eren nods slowly.

“I’ll keep that in mind, ma’am.”

“Your highness!” 

“I meant, your highness,” Eren corrects hastily. He throws in a bow and she settles back, sated for the moment, into a most haughty silence. A staircase sweeps out below Eren, no doubt towards a delicious supper, but his thoughts and Anne’s words have filled him up enough. As if it agrees with this conclusion, the staircase begins to shift away with a bone-shaking groan.

Eren grabs his broom and heads for the pitch.

 

 

“That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever read,” Mikasa deadpans.

“It’s definitely something,” Jean says slowly.

“Eren is coming, what should I do?”

“It’s the Prophet. Eren never reads the paper.”

“Yes, but it’s the sports secti–”

“Good morning, noodlebutts!” Eren squeezes in between Armin and Jean, ignoring the dirty look he gets from either side. “What are all of us looking at?”

“Breakfast.” Mikasa opens her mouth so he can see her half-chewed cereal. It’s remarkably disgusting and distracting, if just for a moment.

Eren squints at a group on the next table. “Wait a minute, that’s – is that _Levi_ in the Prophet?”

Mikasa sighs. “Give it to him, Armin.”

“Eren,” the blonde boy starts, “don’t make a big deal out of this, alright? I’m sure he just has some connections or someth–”

“Humanity’s Strongest Seeker?” Eren reads out. “What it in the Newt’s poop?”

A picture of Levi blinks up at him from under the hefty moniker. The older boy isn’t really smiling but he isn’t displeased either. There’s a certain shyness to his posture that Eren is not focusing on. 

“Do they usually profile students like this?” He frowns.

“Well,” Armin says carefully, “no. But I suppose most students don’t have a story as interesting as Levi’s.”

“And the writer is definitely interested.” Mikasa smirks.

Eren shakes his head and decides he can read it for himself. It’s not that long… Maybe it is a tad too long but it’s about Levi. It might contain valuable information.

The article starts off innocently enough, talking about Levi’s childhood in France and his first days of playing Quidditch. Apparently he hadn’t started till he came to Hogwarts – it doesn’t confirm or deny that he’s all Muggle – and met Erwin. He had a tendency to lash out and the Headmistress thought it would be a better use of his energy (they tried gardening first but he ended up strangling all the Warbling Daisies). He made the team in a record number of days (second only to Harry Potter, Eren notes with a hastily muffled gasp) and he hasn’t looked back since. 

“His grey eyes are like a storm, powerful, enticing and impossible to look away from,” Eren recites. “Is this witch serious?”

“Yes.” Armin giggles. “I heard she tried to kiss him too.”

“This is ridiculous.” Eren folds the paper and tosses it aside. “This woman is ridiculous, this article is ridiculous, Levi is ridi–”

“Really quite impressive.” Jean throws him a shit-eating grin. “You sure you can handle his, um, what was it – short but majestic fury, Eren?”

“You sure you can keep everyone’s balls out of your holes, Jean?” he asks sweetly.

“You sure you can keep Levi’s out of yours?”

“What did you say? Armin Arle–”

“Oh, would you look at that, uh, Ramen Keelaw is calling me.” Armin jumps to his feet. “I should go, it could be urgent. Bye, guys!”

“Traitor!” Eren shouts after him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one in which Eren has angst in his pants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me apologize for the late update with a dancing kitty: http://i.imgur.com/T0uVUzm.gif.

October starts with a storm. The rain pounds down on the grounds and the castle, leaving them a sodden mess. Peeking out his window Eren can see a class of first-years resolutely heading towards the greenhouses. They look like a bunch of drowned rats.

Or maybe they don’t and he’s just grumpy because he hasn’t been on his broom in over five days, something he can swear has never happened before. His feet are not used to touching the ground so much and he rubs at one morosely as the sky thunders some more. If Mikasa were around, she would no doubt tell him to suck it up.

Eren doesn’t want to suck it up though. He wants to gnash his teeth and shake his fist at everyone and everything. It’s been a week since Slytherin played Hufflepuff and each second stamped itself in Eren’s mind like a hot iron. Maybe it was his fault for taking his knock-off omnioculars along. Watching them splutter and struggle to keep up with Levi had been a singularly horrifying experience. Petra Ral, the Hufflepuff Seeker, had been no match for Levi and the most unnerving bit had been watching her fly into his arms at the end, as if she didn’t even mind it.

What did that do to Eren’s confidence? It stomped all fucking over it. Levi had jumped off his broom, a rare bit of color in his pale cheeks, to the sound of deafening cheers. He was good enough to make you forget it wasn’t about him (as if Eren could). 

If his mother were around, he knows what she would say. That he’s good enough the way he is. That, to her, he’s the best. But she’s not around and maybe that’s the ache in his chest? 

He never has liked the rain.

 

 

 

“It’s no use.”

Eren nearly drops his broom, he starts so hard. Levi is leaning in the doorway. The stairs yawn out behind him, endless in the dark, and Eren shakes his head. If there was anyone else crazy enough to fly on a night like this, it was Levi. Although the rain has slowed down to a drizzle the pitch is still burgeoning under its weight. 

“You won’t be able to see a thing,” Levi explains. 

Eren turns to look at him. He can feel the rain settling into his hair with every passing second. “And yet you’re here,” he says and he can’t help it if it comes out a little accusatory. Levi isn’t obliged to tell his competition when or how he practices.

“I couldn’t sleep,” is all Levi offers.

Eren turns back to the pitch. He can barely make out the stands on the other side. The wood beneath his feet is swollen with water that has begun seeping into the ends of his pajamas. He nearly cries out for a second time when rough fingers latch onto his shoulders and drag him back inside.

“You’re going to fall sick, you brat,” Levi says before letting him go. He wipes his hands on his robes with a shake of his head. “Kids these days.”

It stings. “If I’m such a disappointment, feel free to leave.”

“Whoa, there.” Levi whistles. “What’s itching your balls?” Eren opens his mouth to answer (well, splutter incoherently) but the older boy is busy rummaging in his pockets. In the end he pulls out what Eren recognizes as the white sticks he has seen daggling from the pursed mouth of many a harrowed Muggle.

“It’s a cigarette. You look like you could use one.” Levi holds one out and Eren takes it with uncertain hands. He has a vague understanding of what he has to do but he chooses to watch Levi light his in silence. The boy mutters a word and the tip of his wand is replaced by a merry little flame that he wraps around the cigarette between his lips. It lights up his eyes too and they remind Eren of the lightning he’s been watching all night. Levi takes a long drag, tipping his head back with a contented sigh.

“Try it,” he says when Eren doesn’t move. “Warms you right up.”

He seems to sense Eren’s hesitation and lights his as soon as it’s in place. Eren’s protest is lost in a smoke-stoked cough.

“Your chest sounds like shit, I told you you’ll fall sick.” Levi stares at him over the brightly glowing end of his cigarette. Eren wonders where he got them in the first place. “Or was that the plan all along? Here I was thinking you would face me like a man.”

“Huh?”

“In our match? Whenever it is.” Levi’s eyes flit out over the pitch.

“I came here to practice.”

“Good. Your sister might be good with balls but I’m better.”

Eren drops the cigarette and he can’t tell what’s more awkward, the hiss it lets out or the silence that follows. 

“Um,” he says.

Levi laughs and takes another long drag. “Maybe you should go back out, wash that brain of yours clean,” he drawls out and Eren blushes. “I’ll let you make that call.” His eyes dart to the soggy stick on the ground. “You owe me.”

Eren keeps staring at the same spot long after Levi has vacated it.

What just happened?

 

 

 

“What?”

“I don’t know!” Eren groans. If even Armin can’t figure last night out that means something major happened. His headache intensifies. 

“Are you okay?” His best friend’s eyes widen with concern.

“No!” Eren practically shouts. His life was so much better when it didn’t include short boys with stormy eyes and imperceptible limps. “I’m really confused, 'Min. Do you think he’s just yanking my wand so I fumble when it really matters?”

Armin seems to think it over for a moment. “No,” he says finally. “Levi doesn’t seem like the type and, no offence, but I don’t think he really needs to resort to that kind of stuff.”

Eren is too tired to protest. “What do you mean he doesn’t seem like the type?”

“Well,” Armin tucks a lock of blond hair out of the way, “I’ve been talking to Hange a lot more lately and he drops by sometimes. He’s really rude to her but not in a mean way? I think that’s just how he is. He likes teasing people,” he concludes.

“Why would he tease me though?” 

“Because it’s so easy.” Someone behind him laughs.

“Nobody asked you, you Thestral.” Eren scowls.

“I’m just saying.” Jean shrugs and settles down next to Armin. “You don’t realize how easy it is to get to you, Jaeger.”

“It is not, I just can’t stand your ugly mu– what the fuck, who said you can kiss Armin, you prick!”

 

 

 

He ends up hexing Jean and Armin doesn’t talk to him for the rest of the day (“He didn’t even kiss my lips!”).

 

 

 

“And something for the gloomy Mr. Jaeger!”

“What th–” Eren says.

“What the fuck!” Jean shrieks. There’s a long rip on the backside of his robe – one that Eren had been studiously and surreptitiously working on for the past fifteen minutes. Until his Professor decided it would be fun to hex him. Now it’s raining just over his head, Jean looks like he wants to murder Eren and the entire class is in splits.

“I’m sorry,” Professor Pixis says, charming as ever (which makes sense considering he teaches them, well, Charms). “You looked so low, I couldn’t help myself.” 

From the corner of his eye he can see Mikasa glowering at the older man. 

Their Professor gives another lazy flick of his wand. The rain ceases and Eren is dry as a bone again. He’s somewhat pleased to note Jean’s robes are still gaping. He pays a little more attention after that. It’s difficult considering this is their last class of the day. They go through a ménage of spells that Eren gathers they will be tested on sometime in the near future.

An hour later they’re filing out of the classroom. Eren is the last one in line. Someone taps his back and he turns around.

It’s Professor Pixis.

“I hope everything is alright?” The man asks with a furrow of his eyebrows. “I meant it as a joke. If there’s anything weighing you down, my office is right nearby and it has pumpkin pie.”

Eren shakes his head with a small smile. “I’m fine, Professor. Just, you know, teenager things?”

“I see. Well, I do suppose those are a bit outside my area. But anyway,” he claps Eren on the shoulder once, “my offer stands should you ever need it.”

“Thank you, Professor.”

He leaves the room a tad cheered up, racing to catch up with the others who are halfway to the Great Hall.

Dinner is rather nice. A dull, tired hum has replaced the chatter of breakfast. It’s the sound of the school year in full swing. Eren eats till his stomach is bursting and sleep is tugging on his sleeves. 

He’s swaying on his feet as he strips his socks off and falls sideways into his bed. 

 

 

 

“So that got me thinking,” Hange says, leaning forward. The sunlight catches on her glasses in a thoroughly eerie manner. “What makes them so different from us? Because all of us look the same but there’s some invisible part of us that’s magic, which they don’t have. Now you would think somebody would have the answer by now – wizarding academia far predates the human but nope!” She throws her hands up. Eren resists rolling his eyes as the scandalized noise Armin lets out. “There’s so little curiosity among us about Muggles because obviously we think ourselves superior. But, you know, they’ve done pretty well for themselves and they actually study this stuff. They have this thing called bi-olo-logy,” she stumbles over the word, “and it looks really cool. I have some pamphlets in my dorm, I could show them to you someday.”

“I would love that!” Armin beams. “Biolology,” he repeats with a look of wonder. “Doesn’t that sound cool, Eren?”

“Thrilling.” Eren’s eyes wander outside again. It’s a beautiful day outside but Armin had insisted he stay in and study. Even if Eren has been reading his beatdown copy of _Flying With The Cannons_ behind his textbook, he thinks it’s rather unfair of Armin to have abandoned any pretense of studying in favor of listening to Hange. The older girl is sweet but she definitely had a tendency to ramble. Her obscure rantings were doing nothing to help Eren’s mood. Instead of a quiet afternoon with his best friend he was stuck listening to 1001 Theories On Muggles.

Armin turns him to sternly. “We’re going to be taking our O.W.L.s soon. It’d do you some good to start taking an interest in things.”

“Whatever, mother.” Eren slides down in his chair with a surly look.

Hange laughs. Innocently, like she isn’t the bane of Eren’s existence right now. Alright, maybe he’s exaggerating but there’s something brewing inside him he doesn’t recognize – his sheets smell like someone else’s and his mind isn’t on Quidditch all the time. He half expects to see a different person in the mirror the next morning. There was nothing about this in _Confronting The Faceless_.

“You’re so resetless,” Hange says and he jerks out of his thoughts. “You’re just like Levi. If he’s not on a broom, he’s impossible to talk to.”

“Eren’s not that bad,” Armin defends fondly and it would be sweet if he didn’t sound like some zealous parent.

“At least I don’t walk around with leather panties on my head like your boyfriend,” he says darkly and Armin squeaks.

Hange stares at them curiously before leaning back in her chair. “You’re a weird bunch,” she declares.

Eren sits up. “And Slytherins aren’t? Weren’t the lot of you Death Eaters till li–”

“So, how’s Levi?” Armin interrupts loudly. He pinches Eren under the table. Hard.

Hange adjusts her glasses. Unlike him, she looks thoroughly unperturbed. “He’s fine," she jerks a thumb in the direction of the window, "he’s on the pitch as usual.”

Eren blinks. “He’s flying? Right now?”

She nods.

He grabs his bag and jumps to his feet.

“That’s nic– Eren, wait, where are you going?”

 

 

 

Levi raises his eyebrows when Eren zips past him, arms stretched and teeth gleaming.

“This is my cigarette,” he shouts.

 

 

 

They chase each other around the pitch, threading invisible patterns through the air. The wind runs its hands greedily through Eren’s hair and he settles into the feeling. Through the corner of his eye he can see Levi catching up with frightening speed. He doesn’t do anything. It’s an invitation.

Levi lands by his side and they start a fresh lap together. His broom quivers with the effort. He glances at the older boy – his robes are waving proudly in the air like a flag and his eyes are closed. Eren has never imagined what happiness looks like but he thinks this might be it.

 

 

 

“You’re not bad,” Levi tells him after they’ve slowed down to a hover. Eren’s toes are brushing the grass and he notes, amused, that Levi’s are not.

“Neither are you.” He grins, veering up with when Levi makes to crash into him.

“Any tips?” He calls out.

“You never give tips to the enemy,” Levi drawls. “Come on, let’s race.” He points to the other end. “Tallest hoop, last one there is a rat’s asshole.”

Eren is still young – he sets off for the target with adrenaline roaring in his veins. Three seconds later a flash of blue enters his vision and he’s knocked clean off his broom. He rolls once, twice before coming to a stop.

A soft laugh echoes through the afternoon air. He spread-eagles on the grass and watches Levi fly over him. His elbows are scraped and his shoulder is going to bruise but he can’t stop smiling.

Fuck it. He must be in love.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Eren and Levi have a lot of are-they-dates-or-are-they-not.

It starts with a floating pumpkin – an innocuous beginning, innocuous enough for Eren to let his guard down at least. He’s tired of walking around like a cramped up hamstring. And he has a niggling feeling his friends are tired of it too. He does this sometimes, goes into prolonged silences and falls prey to his thoughts, but as winter blankets the castle the air is distinctly, well, magical.

His spirits lift as Halloween inches closer. As a budding troublemaker, it’s a holiday he quite enjoys. The grand feast is one reason, of course, but there are other considerations. There is the atmosphere of spookiness that is more playful than scary. Halloween is also Mikasa’s favorite holiday, which means she is more cheerful this week than she is every other day of the year combined. 

“What is it about Halloween,” he muses, putting an arm around her, “that makes you so happy? You just like seeing other people be miserable, don’t you?”

She shakes him off. “It’s fun.” She leans closer. “And alright, so the boundaries of fun get a little blurred. What’s not to enjoy?”

Eren laughs. He still remembers how Thomas Wagner had wet his bed after someone transfigured his blanket into a spider. “That’s the spirit, sis.”

“Do you have anything planned?”

He looks at her like she’s mad. “Not if you don’t.”

She smiles gently. “I was thinking we could pop into Hogsmeade. Halloween is on a Sunday.”

“Sounds good.”

 

 

 

“That sounds great,” Armin says. His reaction clearly tops Eren’s and Mikasa mirrors his wide grin. “I was going to go anyway but now all of us can go!”

“All of us?”

“Yeah.” Armin beams. “Us and Jean.”

Eren balks. “Why does horseface have to come along?”

He throws him a dirty look. “Because he asked me first.”

“ _He_ just wants to get you high on sugar and take advantage of you. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Eren shrugs. 

Mikasa rolls her eyes. “Feel free to ignore my brother, it’s great that Jean can come along. Maybe we can invite some other people too.”

Eren can literally feel his face sulking. It’s childish but the holidays have always been their thing and he doesn’t like the idea of sharing of his friends.

“The more the merrier,” Armin says with a little shake of his shoulders.

“Why?”

“Because,” he leans closer, “every Halloween they open the Shrieking Shack.”

Eren frowns. “But didn’t a bunch of horrible stuff happen there?”

“Well, yes, but that’s all in the past. Some people say it’s still haunted. I think that’s just to get people there.” He brushes his bangs out of his eyes. “Whatever it is, I think it’d be a cool place to check out.”

Mikasa nods. “Perfect for Halloween.”

“I guess it’s settled then,” Eren murmurs.

“Yes!” Mikasa jumps to her feet. “Don’t look so grumpy, it’ll be fun.”

“Hey!” Eren yelps when she bends down to pull his cheeks. 

His sister really seems to have perfected the art of making him feel eight years old forever. 

There is, of course, a part of him that is grateful for it. She has always had his back, more than anyone he has ever known. More than his own father even. When he was younger and picking fights with the neighbors, Mikasa would join in without batting an eyelash. And if he got beaten to pulp – which he did rather often – she would sneak him back home and make him presentable just in time for dinner. When his mother passed away he had locked himself in his room for a week and somehow she had known the exact second he needed her, smashed the lock with their father’s sledgehammer and burst into his room. There is nothing Eren wouldn’t do for his sister and he knew it went both ways.

He can still remember the night of their sorting. He had stumbled his way to the old stool, trembling under the a hundred curious gazes, and somehow managed to jam the Sorting Hat onto his hair. 

“Eren, hmmmmm?” It had finally muttered after a minute, making him jump. “Hmm, mmm, hmmm. There was a girl, that brunette. What’s she see in a runt like you?”

“Excuse me?” Eren had yelped.

“Mikasa,” the Hat whistled, “Ackerman. From the second she put me on she wanted to be in the same House as you. You one of those pea-knees who need looking after?”

“Um, no.” It hadn’t been very convincing.

The Hat chuckled, tickling the top of his ears. “It doesn’t matter. You two are definitely alike. Same impatience, same ambitions. Teenagers.” It snorted. Everyone in the Great Hall seemed to lean closer as the seam lifted and the Hat prepared to shout out Eren’s fate.

“Gryffindor!”

 

 

 

Halloween weekend rolls around and by then their little group has expanded considerably. It’s a wonder it doesn’t take them all afternoon to reach Hogsmeade. Somehow they manage to jostle their way there while the sun is up. It isn’t easy moving in a large group and a straggler or two is unavoidable. Christa insists on waiting for anyone who gets left behind – “It’s the polite thing to do!” – even while Ymir swears under her breath and Eren rolls his eyes every ten seconds. She seems oblivious to the fact that something in their slow amble means Jean and Armin _want_ to be left behind. Eren notices though and he makes it a point to talk to Armin as much as he can. His plan, however, backfires once Armin starts loudly holding forth on the merits of Muggle Studies in the advancement of wizardkind. Like a house elf drawn to a sock, Hange appears out of thin air. And with her, of course, appears Levi.

Eren finds himself edged out of the conversation easily (as, he notes with some satisfaction, does Jean). Levi merely nods at him and trudges ahead to walk closer to Mikasa. Something in the pit of Eren’s stomach protests but he muffles it by jogging over to Connie and demanding a dirty joke.

 

 

 

“You’re not coming?” Levi turns around and asks.

Eren grits his teeth. “No.” He can see a glint of teeth on Mikasa’s face before she disappears inside the dark shack.

“Why not?” Levi’s lips quirk.

“Because,” Eren stands where he is stiffly, “we don’t know what’s there and it’s really fucking dumb to just barge in.”

Levi takes a step in his direction. “Is wittle Ewen scared of ghosts?”

“Fuck you.”

“You’re a wizard,” Levi says unhelpfully.

“I know, alright. I’ve just had some bad experiences with the afterlife lot. They don’t listen to reason.” Eren tugs on the end of his scarf. “Anyway, it’s cold.”

“Then let’s warm you up.”

His cheeks turn hot enough to melt ice. “What do you mean?”

Levi looks at him curiously. “I meant butterbeer. What do you mean?”

“The same obviously,” Eren huffs out and, turning around without another word, stalks off in the direction of the Three Broomsticks. He can hear Levi’s heavy boots crushing the snow a few feet behind him. Something about the older boy made him feel like he was on pins and needles all the time. Not in a bad way but it was a new feeling, he decides. He can’t remember the last time he cared what someone thinks of him and, when it comes to Levi, he can’t remember how to stop caring. 

A loud snort stops him in his tracks. He turns around to see Levi eyeing Madame Puddifoot’s with undisguised contempt. They look at each other and grimace before, with one last shake of his head, Levi leads the way to their chosen haunt.

The place is bustling and there isn’t a single seat that isn’t occupied by a mass of redfaced student. From under plain black robes peak out the uniforms of all four houses. Levi scans the room.

“Wait here,” he says and heads for the counter. He has a brief conversation with Madame Rosemerta. She nods, a smile spreading across her face. They both glance at Eren and he freezes, barely remembering to raise a hand in greeting. A few minutes later Levi is walking back to him with two butterbeers.

“I think we might have to drink these out back.” He holds the bottles up. “The weather is alright so I figured it’d be fine.”

Eren takes one from him as an answer and follows him through the crowded in to the door opposite the entrance. He’s never been to this part of the Three Broomsticks before and he wonders if Levi comes here often. The back turns out to be a small garden of sorts, adorned with some rather unique looking flowers, and a slim wooden bench. Eren was expecting something more grandiose but all he gets are a few tall trees, firmly in the grip of autumn, slanting their shadows across the back of the inn.

Levi seems more at home. He settles onto the bench, his butterbeer next to him, and throws his head up to inspect the sky. Eren settles next to him and sips his drink timidly.

“So,” he says. It comes out small and strangled.

Levi gives him an amused look. “So what?”

“Why didn’t you go in the shack?” he asks finally.

“Can’t leave a brat like you unattended.” Levi takes a long swig – long enough for his eyelashes to fall against his cheek and for Eren’s heart to thump in his chest. “The ghost would probably come out and get you.”

“So there is a ghost?”

“No.” Levi laughs. “You’re such a kid sometimes.”

Eren takes a mutinous sip of his own.

“Hey, kid,” Levi licks his lips, “wanna play a game?”

Eren sets his drink down, his interested piqued. “What kind of game?”

Levi pats his pocket. “I have a bunch of Hange’s beans here. Every-flavor of course. We pick blindly. The first one to spit out the shitty ones has to do whatever the other says.”

Eren considers it. Thanks to Armin’s candy addiction he is fairly experienced with the full range of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavored Beans. Plus, he figures, if he gets a particularly gross one he can always swallow it down with some butterbeer. And, his mind screams, if Levi loses he’ll have to do whatever you want.

“Okay,” Eren says, a bit too loud.

Merlin is on his side when they start off. He gets a strawberry followed by grass, which is strange but not unbearable. The real reason might be the fact that all of his attention – every single inch of it – is focused on the different expressions flashing across Levi’s face. They are, in order: apprehensive, regretful, disgusted, downright murderous and, finally, nauseous. Three seconds later the older boy spits his half-chewed bean out with a loud noise.

“You lose!” Eren shouts, stomping his feet.

“I know,” Levi groans. His features are still contorting. Eren examines the messy blob on the ground – it’s colorless. Earwax. He thanks the cheap talisman Mikasa bought him last year for his good luck and turns to Levi with a grin on his face.

“Give me tips,” he says immediately. “Tell me how you can catch the snitch at such fast speeds.”

Levi does not look pleased but he keeps his end of the bargain, explaining to Eren how Hange had helped him figure out how to use wind patterns to his advantage. By flying on a current instead of against it, he was freed to focus on the snitch. It meant he had less control of where he was headed, of course, but it also offered the perfect trick to beat the other Seeker.

“And,” he leans back and crosses his legs, “I never wear underwear, of course.”

Eren wonders if he some of those beans have ended up in his ears. He couldn’t have heard that right. “What?”

Levi shrugs. “It slows you down.” He holds out the remaining beans. “Your turn.” 

Eren’s victory is short-lived. He got earthworm.

Levi stretches in his spot and jerks his head downwards. “My left leg hurts, massage it.”

“What?” Eren squeaks.

“Hurry up, I don’t have all afternoon.” 

Eren’s mind is racing as he crouches till he’s eye level with Levi’s thigh. He pinches himself quickly to make sure that, yes, this is seriously happening. He is sitting alone in a weirdly isolated part of the Three Broomsticks massaging his idol’s leg. He glances up at Levi who has gone back to staring at the sky. His features are blank as ever and it looks like he doesn’t find this weird at all, which is weird in itself because Eren is ten seconds away from hexing himself just so he can make it all stop. It’s not like he’s noticing how supple and built Levi’s calf muscles are or how his skin is even more alabaster this close, no wa– 

He nearly falls over when Levi frees himself with a jerk.

“Enough,” he drawls. “You’re making it worse.”

Eren crawls back to his place in a daze, too far gone to notice the way Levi is smirking around his butterbeer.

“I think we should stop now.” 

“Okay,” Eren manages to say.

“I’m going to go pay.”

“Okay,” he repeats and Levi laughs.

“See you around, Eren.”

 

 

 

“Where were you?” Mikasa hisses, grabbing his arm as Eren zombie walks past Honeydukes.

“Broomsticks,” is all he says. It is a wonder the force of her gaze on him isn’t melting his skin.

“With?” she presses and he scowls.

“None of your business.”

“Don’t talk to her like that!” Armin chides.

“Yeah. Who were you with then, Armin?” 

He grins as a slow blush spreads across his friend’s face.

 

 

 

The Halloween feast is spectacular as always. It starts with the customary toast from Headmistress McGonagall whose usually stony face wears a small smile as she shakes a raven off her witch’s hat. 

“Students,” she begins in her high voice, “we must remember to be grateful, more on this day than any other, that the food we eat stays where it’s supposed to.” Laughter sounds through the room. “Dig in!”

“Pumpkin pie, pumpkin pie, pumpkin pie,” Eren chants under his breath, craning around the long, laden table to find his favorite treat. He finally spots it two inches away from their Beater.

“Oye, Reiner,” he hollers, ignoring Mikasa’s disapproving glare. “Cut a brother some pie, would you?” 

Reiner salutes him with his wand before flicking it lazily in the pie’s direction, prompting it to float serenely into Eren’s waiting hands.

“Fuck, yes, pie,” Eren whoops.

(Or in other words: when in doubt, stuff thyself.)

 

 

 

“I saw you at the feast earlier,” Erd comments as Eren crosses him on his way to bed.

“Yeah?” Eren rubs the back of his neck.

“Yes.” His captain laughs. “If you need a new broom tomorrow, I’m not paying for it.”

“I’ll make a note of it.” Eren swings back and forth on his toes, wondering if he looks as full as he feels.

“The next match has been fixed by the way. It’s on the 15th, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw of course. This is a great opportunity to spot their weaknesses. I expect you to be on time.”

“Yes, sir.” 

 

 

 

They celebrate Armin’s birthday with a life-size statue of him, made entirely of chocolate frogs. Mikasa even charms it to ribbit happy birthday. Eren smears icing all through his best friend’s hair and generally makes a mess to indicate his happiness.  
Armin’s grandfather sends him the usual care package, except this time it is delivered by a small brown owl with luminous yellow eyes. 

“It’s mine!” Armin exclaims after scanning his grandfather’s letter quickly.

“He’s beautiful,” Mikasa hums, gently petting its head. “What are you going to name him?”

Armin seems to consider it, his blue eyes scrambling all around them to find the right word. They settle, of course, on a pack of candy. “Bean,” he announces proudly.

After they’re done celebrating Armin and Jean sneak off to the Astronomy tower.

Eren never asks and they never tell.

 

 

 

As Eren expected, nothing of note happens between then and the next Quidditch match. They have practices – long and intense ones, by the end of which his legs feel like gillyweed. The wind gets colder and the smell of winter is ripe in the air. It’s clean and sharp, hitting his lungs every time he gasps for breath. It sneaks under his cloak, his gloves till he jumps off his broom and a shiver runs through his spine.

The wind keeps at it right up till the day of the match. It wails and billows and generally fucking blows. Eren’s hair knots itself up in defense and not even Mikasa’s strongest comb (charmed to be extra effective) can coax it into an acceptable state. The result is that Eren trudges to the pitch swathed in his scarf and a little grumpier than he normally would be on a match day.

Connie is commentating again today so they’ve invited Sasha with them. The non-players are kind enough to accommodate Eren’s request of sitting with the rest of the Gryffindor team. Armin is naturally the most accommodating, shifting along the long bleacher till he’s almost in Jean’s lap.

Eren glares at them from where he’s standing at the edge of the pitch. He always prefers to inspect the playing conditions from up close. While being up in the stands gives him a better idea of what the players are facing, because of the shape of the stadium those conditions are actively influenced by what’s happening down below.

He mutters a few things into his sleeve for safekeeping before making his way back to his tower. There are hordes of students milling around him but he stills panics when his scarf goes taut against his neck and cuts off his air supply.

“Hello,” a voice behind him says, a bit too pleasantly considering the circumstances. The hand lets go and Eren heaves in some air. As the moisture clears from his eyes Levi comes into focus.

“Watch the match with me.”

“Wha– Did you jus–” Eren splutters.

“Watch the match with me,” Levi repeats calmly. His cheeks are ruddy with the cold and his grey eyes are narrowed. “You owe me, remember?”

Eren flushes. Of course he remembers. He remembers every hippogriff-in-a-hula-hoop danged second of his time with Levi. He remembers the way the older boy smells, the way his eyes widen when he’s thinking particularly hard and the way he walks a bit too straight to be entirely natural.

“Okay,” he manages to mumble. Erd is going to rip him a new one later but he couldn’t care less right now.

“Come on then.” Levi grabs the end of his scarf – smirking when he flinches – and leads him in the opposite direction. It’s a funny way to walk with someone and people stare at them as they climb up to a seat of Levi’s choice.

 _Is this a date_? Eren’s mind screams.

“Isadaate?” his mouth says. Levi bursts into laughter and Eren contemplates throwing himself off the tower.

“What?”

Eren shakes his head, not trusting himself to speak.

Levi points to a spot. “Sit there.” Keeping his track record with words in mind, Eren does as he told. “Wiggle around.” He raises his eyebrows but, again, he does as he’s told. “Good, now scoot over.”

Levi folds himself neatly into the space Eren has just – he realizes – cleaned, throwing one leg over the other. He looks strangely satisfied, like Eren has accomplished something more than smearing the seat of his pants with dirt.

(The match is more intense than their second year class trip to the dragon farm and maybe that’s why Eren finds it so weird that Levi spends less time staring at the players and more time staring at him.)

 

 

 

“Was it a date or was it not?” Eren moans for the fifteenth time that hour.

“I don’t know,” Mikasa growls. She has that look in her eyes, the one she gets before she kicks Eren dangerously close to his nuts. He flops over on the grass till he’s facing Armin instead.

“Arlie the gnarly,” he whines, “help me out here.”

Armin doesn’t look up from his book. “I could ask Hange if you wanted,” he says innocently.

Eren bolts upright. “You will do no such thing! God, you guys are the worst friends ever. How did you even snag Jean with this kind of attitude?”

“For your information,” Armin says primly, “I did not court Jean. Jean courted me.”

“Did he stomp his feet and toss his mane – is that what did it?”

Armin shuts his book hard. 

On Eren’s nose.

 

 

 

“Who’s this little fellow?” 

“Bean,” Armin says, supervising his owl’s exchange of perch. He doesn’t even blink when Hange brings Bean up to her nose and takes a long sniff.

“He’s adorable,” she announces.

“Thank you.” Armin beams.

It’s funny that two feet away from Eren the world seems to be rainbows and sunshine but where he’s standing, it’s basically awkward as fuck. Levi is watching Hange with an odd mixture of fondness and revulsion. And every now and then his eyes – stormy and indecipherable as always – will flit up to meet Eren’s, causing him to flush and paw at the ground with his worn out shoes. 

One would expect Levi to strike up some sort of conversation. After all he was the one who made it a point to stand opposite Eren. But apparently he doesn’t feel the need to. No, he seems perfectly content to watch Eren squirm and occasionally fumble a few words of small talk, unaware of the expectations that are physically slamming into his body every ten seconds. He’s a teenager after all and Levi, Levi is beautiful and Eren kind of wants to grab the ends of Levi’s perfect hair and suck on his tongue. 

However these things are easier said than done and, in this case, probably better unsaid altogether. There is a smile though, playing around in the corner of Levi’s upturned lips that Eren can’t help but think has nothing to do Hange or Armin or Bean. It’s obvious to him that Levi is too good for him. Eren is a piece of lint compared to Humanity’s Strongest Seeker but there’s a part of him that’s starting to think that he would love Levi even if the older man turned his broom upside down and decided to be a house elf for the rest of his life. Whatever it was that had landed him here, it didn’t matter anymore. There was no going back.

A few minutes later the corridor swells with students and Eren realizes, with a start, that his free period is over and he had spent it in some sort of silent eye-match with Levi. He excuses himself, ignoring the puzzled look Armin shoots his way, and heads up to his dorm to fetch his Charms book. 

He’s halfway through the common room when someone calls his name.

“Eren!”

It’s Reiner. His hair is a mess and his face is flushed like he’s been out flying. “I bumped into Erd,” he says, jogging up to Eren, “and he told me the next match is fixed. It’s Hufflepuff and us. The leaderboard is just about neck-to-neck right now so Coach Smith is making all of us play each other first. The house with the lowest score at the end of the first cycle is out.”

Eren frowns. “I thought we would be ahead.”

“We are but Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw aren’t too far apart. It’s not a fair call in my opinion but you know the coach. No one can figure out what’s going on in his head.”

He was right. Coach Smith was notorious for his clandestine nature and his penchant for excessive planning. He tended to treat the House Cup like it was a battle for humanity’s very survival. Maybe that’s what had made him such a great player when he was active but sometimes Eren wishes he would just put a lid on that cauldron.

“Let me guess, practice tomorrow?”

“We rise with the sun,” Reiner confirms.

 

 

 

“This is the Hufflepuff team, arranged in order of competence,” Erd’s voice booms through the locker room. “For those of you who paid attention in the last match, none of this should be news.”

Eren congratulates himself on choosing to stand behind Reiner.

“Diving them up by offence and defense, there is a clear imbalance. Only one of their Chasers, I believe, lives up to ours. Their Beaters are experienced but, on the other hand, their Keeper is playing his first season. Mikasa, make him regret it.”

Her hair and her scarf shroud most of Mikasa’s face but her eyes shine through with cold determination. “Yes, Captain.”

“Petra of course is the exception to this discussion,” Erd continues. “She is an exceptional flier and a reliable Seeker. She will always play fair, so bending the rules within reason is one way to throw her off. However she adapts to change well so I hope certain people are listening.” His eyes scan the room and Eren sheepishly steps into view.

“Yes, Captain,” he echoes.

“Hufflepuff are not an aggressive team. But our mission is not just to win – we need to win with the maximum number of points we can. Eren you are not to catch the Snitch until we are at a minimum of 60 points. Unless of course Petra is going for it, in which case catch it first or I will kill you. Any questions?”

“Yes. How do you intend to win the Cup if your Seeker is dead?”

“Shut up, Eren.”

 

 

 

They practice for three hours, dedicating the last to a new drill Erd has worked on. The wind is cold but the air is crisp and the sun is generous. It’s a beautiful day and Eren kind of doesn’t want to go back in. He is hungry but it can wait. The Snitch is in a good mood too – it’s making things fun, darting through bleachers, hovering and waiting for him to catch up before setting off again. The sun climbs higher in the sky and he loses track of time – until a searing pain shoots through his leg.

“Fuck,” he hisses as he drops a few feet, frantically trying to position his body properly again. His broom is tipping and he barely manages to cling on till he’s falling down to the grass, curled up with both his arms clutching his leg. He lies there for a few minutes panting, waiting for the cramp to ease. 

“You got a cramp,” a low voice snorts and Eren blinks his watering eyes open to see Levi walking towards him. He tiredly wonders if he has a concussion too, because Levi is carrying what looks like an enormous bar of chocolate. “What an amateur.”

Eren presses his forehead to the damp grass with a groan. If Levi wasn’t going to help him stop feeling like his calf is on fire, he can just go away.

“How long have you been out here, kid?” Levi asks. His voice is closer this time. “Come on, let’s get you up.” 

The pain isn’t bad enough to mask the niggling disappointment that the first time Levi is touching him – like putting his broad palms against Eren’s virginal body touching him – is to help him with a cramp. If that isn’t the most unromantic thing in the world, he doesn’t know what is.

He is grateful though, he doesn’t think he could have made it to the stands without Levi’s help. He’s the perfect crutch, Eren thinks, and pales when he realizes where saying that out loud might get him. 

Unaware of these thought Levi eases him down onto one end of the stray bench at the foot of the second Ravenclaw tower. He sits primly on the other and pats his thigh.

“Back down and leg up,” he says and Eren obeys with a wince. Long, elegant fingers land on his training pants and push them out of the way. Eren hisses as they start to move, gently feeling around for the knot of pain. “Erwin used to do this for me,” Levi explains. “I never knew when to stop either.”

Eren blinks and focuses on the sky. “You mean Coach Smith?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Eren can just imagine the shit-eating grin Levi probably has on his face right now. It makes him shuffle up, till he’s leaning on his elbows and able to see the older boy again.

“What’re you going to do with that chocolate?” he asks sweetly.

“Well,” Levi looks at him, “I was going to offer you some but now I’m scared you might eat the whole damn thing and make yourself sick.” He squeezes a little harder and Eren yelps. “I have no desire to clean up after you.”

“Fine.” Eren pouts and flops back down. “If you want a starving child on your conscience, go ahead.”

A few seconds later something hard and rectangular lands on his stomach.

“Drama queen,” Levi mutters.

Eren makes quick work of the wrapper before latching onto a corner of the chocolate with his teeth. He licks at it past them, making a sweet, sticky mess he’s grateful Levi can’t see too well. The older boy’s hand is still gently kneading his calf, driving away the pain with each practiced movement. Eren sighs. The sunshine is dancing on his skin and Levi’s impromptu massage has his whole body humming pleasantly. Fuck, he could spend the rest of his life like this.

“Stupid brat.” He hears Levi murmuring to himself as he leans in to inspect Eren’s leg, his breath warm on the tan skin. “Can’t take a hint. Probably shuts himself in his room all summer, listening to Nickelback.”

Eren shivers. He needs to make conversation or he might just do something stupid with his lips instead. He sits up with a low grunt, miscalculating completely as the sound makes Levi jerk his head up till their faces are inches from each other and Eren’s breath is knocked clean out of his chest.

“Um,” he licks his lips, “what’s a Nickelback?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where I update after four months to reassure you that I have not abandoned this story and do, in fact, intend to finish it once life stops punching me in the face. Enjoy!

Levi blinks and eases himself out of Eren’s personal space, even as Eren’s mind screams in protest. Of course he can’t hear it and, with one last perfect toss of his perfect hair, he stands up.

 

“It’s a band. I would ask you to Google it, but I don’t think that would help.”

 

 _Goo what?_ Eren has never been more confused in his life. He could have sworn he and Levi had been about to kiss, but now the older boy is staring down at him with the kind of smile parents give their children after a 14-hour plane ride. The one that means, I love you, but I wish I didn’t have to.

 

“How’re you feeling?”

 

He wants to say, _annoyed but horny._

 

He decides to go with, “Fine.”

 

“Great. Back on the broom then. Petra’s not an easy girl.” Levi winks and then off he goes, across the pitch, dragging the leash of Eren’s pathetic puppy heart behind him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The problem with playing Petra is she’s part of the territory. Eld, of course, will not cease listing the dozen different ways Eren could lose to her. But what is really going through this mind every time he thinks of the match is _Levi, Levi, Levi, Levi, Levi, Le_ –

 

“Eren!”

 

“Hu– ow, Mikasa! What the hell!” He rubs his arm where she flicked it.

 

“Stop spacing out,” she hisses. “You’re acting like one of the girls in those movies Armin loves to watch.”

 

“I am not.”

 

She crosses her arms. “Really? You’re not thinking about Levi right now?”

 

“Levi,” Eren says loudly, “is a Quidditch player and co-trainee of Petra. So I don’t see how he’s anything but relevant to our situation.”

 

“Your mind better be just on his broomstick, Eren Jaeger,” she says darkly and turns her attention back on Eld, who has continued to drone on through the past five minutes, seemingly unbothered by their little tiff.

 

Eren slumps back in his chair. He barely makes it three seconds before the last match flashes through his mind – sitting next to Levi, how nice the other man had smelt (and how _clean_ ). Where would he sit for this match? Would he sit somewhere Eren could see him – maybe even cheer him on? His toes seem to like that thought, judging by the way they’re tingling. If Eren had been in deep earlier, he’s positively drowning now and he would be more worried, but Levi has been nothing but attentive lately. He makes it a point to greet Eren at least once a day and there may or may not have been more chocolate involved.

 

Armin thinks it’s adorable that Levi is trying to court him the old-fashioned way. Eren’s pants strongly disagree. They had set up shop for Levi a long time ago, but he was taking his sweet time and it was (literally) not going down very well with him.

 

It’s not like he was spineless. He knew he could make the first move and it wouldn’t be unwanted. But a pretty big part of him wanted to see Levi on his tippy toes, see him lose a bit of that Slytherin pride and admit he fell for a well-meaning ragamuffin like Eren.

 

Levi hasn’t done any of that yet, which is not to say he doesn’t have a plan. So far his plan seems to involve engaging Eren in polite small talk in very crowded areas. This, of course, pretty much negates Eren’s preferred alternative – aggressively making out. It’s a smart strategy, one that buys Levi time and Eren a lot of extra practice. The muddle in his mind only ebbs once he’s fifty feet off the ground and, by the time match day rolls around, he’s feeling oddly confident.

 

Mikasa has briefed him on Petra’s skills and general popularity. She’s the golden girl of Hufflepuff House, equally famous for her expert flying and her helpful nature. Eren thinks its safe to say he won’t be experiencing much of the latter.

 

“Tall and angry, Eld wants to talk to ya,” Reiner shouts and brings his train of thought to a grinding halt. “Get over here.”

 

They’ve gone over today’s strategy at least fifteen times, but trust Eld to find a flaw at the last minute. He isn’t feeling too accommodating. He knows most of Petra’s strength is in the way she flies. As long as he concentrates on the task at hand – catching the snitch – he should be all right. Hufflepuff are probably the weakest team, overall.

 

“Today, trainee!” Eld barks and Eren leaps to his feet.

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Hey, kid.”

 

Jean looks around. There’s no one else outside the locker except him and Slytherin’s infamous seeker. He points at himself questioningly.

 

“Yeah, you,” Levi drawls impatiently. “Get over here.”

 

“I don’t think we should be talking, the match is about to sta–” He stops short when a look of disbelief looms across Levi’s face like a storm on a horizon. “What is it?” he says, more bravely than he means to.

 

“Where’s your tall friend?”

 

“Which one?” Jean asks, confused.

 

“You know, tall, anger issues, eyes a million shades of blue,” Levi lists, staring at a point behind Jean’s shoulder.

 

“Eren.”

 

“Well done.”

 

Jean turns towards the tent, then turns back, visibly torn. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to see him right now. How about I take a message or something? I’ll make sure he gets it.”

 

“Alright.” Levi smiles and it leaves Jean positively squirming. “Listen carefully. Tell Eren his friend – tall, weird hair, whiny as a horse – not only banged his best friend, but is also widely known to shoot his gun before the target’s even up.”

 

Jean’s cheeks are boiling. “You can’t tell him tha– It’s not even true!” he says loudly.

 

“It doesn’t need to be true. I’m a senior and a future Quidditch superstar. Who do you think people are going to believe?” Levi coolly examines the nails on his left hand. “It’s your call, kid.”

 

The din around them has been rising through all of this, as more and more students make their way into the stands. It meant that time was running out and Jean had little choice in the matter. Levi had won.

 

“Fuck, fine, but you owe me!”

 

Levi makes a zipping motion across his mouth, then smirks. “Consider yourself repaid.”

 

He’s still standing there, studiously placed disinterest firm on his face, when Jean disappears into the Gryffindor team’s tent and, a minute later, Eren comes out.

 

“Levi?”

 

The older boy looks up. “Hey,” he says, like pulling Eren out of a pre-match pep talk is the most natural thing in the world.

 

It kills Eren to say it. “This actually isn’t the best time, you know.”

 

“I know,” Levi says and, sticking his hands in his pockets, walks over to Eren and sends his heart into overdrive. “Its urgent.”

 

Eren stares down at him, praying to every deity he knows that his sweat glands will roll over and die, because he probably stinks right now and fuck, if Levi doesn’t smell like the man of his dreams. Their eyes meet and Eren cancels that previous thought. Levi most definitely _is_ the man of his dreams. This would be a relatively less gob smacking realization, if he didn’t have to climb on a flying stick and ride it around at breakneck speeds in pursuit of a golden fluttery ball in less than five minutes.

 

“Um,” he pauses to clear his throat and sound a little less pubescent, “what is it?”

 

Levi takes another step closer and Eren nearly trips taking a step back.

 

“Levi,” he yelps, distressed and, yes, pubescent. “I really have to go.”

 

“Shame.” The grey-haired boy licks his lips and Eren wonders if they’ll have to forfeit the match. “I’m just getting started.” He’s pretty sure the smirk on Levi’s face is going to land him straight in the Hospital Wing. The horror of such a result must show on his face because the next thing he knows, there’s a hand landing on his waist.

 

“Hey,” Levi says, more softly, and draws Eren’s attention back to him. “Relax. I just wanted to wish you before the match.”

 

“Okay.” Eren takes a deep breath and tries to calm his body. What Levi just said makes sense, there was nothing to get excited or nervous or positively catatonic over.

 

“Good luck,” Levi whispers, before gently pressing his lips against Eren’s and short-circuiting all 100 billion of his neurons forever.

 

What was a snitch again?


	6. Chapter 6

_Focus, Eren, you can do this. Just focus on the golden balls. No, ball. Singular._

 

Fuck. His mind feels like mush as he cruises mid-level over the pitch. It’s like Levi has kissed some kind of Confundus charm into him. He had barely managed to get on his broom in one go.

 

Petra is on the other end, perfect brown hair pulled back and fluttering in the wind. She had shook his hand and wished him good luck before the match started. In other words she was as nice as Eren had been expecting and that made it considerably harder to tap into his competitive side. Sometimes he wished he was a Keeper and the quaffle was Jean’s head.

 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. This is not focusing. He bites back a groan. The fact that he was thinking about horse-face instead of the snitch was despicable to say the least. He slows down and shakes his head, earning a few weird looks from the audience. A quick drop and swerve has them shrieking. Eren pulls out of the dive with satisfaction. Coach Smith’s eyebrows are dangerously high.

 

He shrugs and flattens down, eyes scoping out the action. The score is in their favor right now but it isn’t enough to see them till the end. This was a good time for the snitch to show up. Three minutes later he does zero in on something, but it isn’t his ball. It’s Levi, bundled up like a puppy on Christmas, sitting next to – Eren frowns – Annie. He didn’t know they knew each other. Maybe they practiced together. Maybe it was just coincidence. Maybe they had common friends.

 

He grits his teeth and resists the urge to swing one leg up and kick his own face. What was wrong with him today? Usually he had no problem keeping his eyes on the prize. He zooms over to the other end before he has more than just one piece of wood between his legs.

 

It breaks the impassive circling he and Petra have been locked in. She shoots him a smile as he passes her. A change in the wind lets him know she’s tailing him. This could only end in two ways: either he would see the snitch before her and grab it, or he would lead her right to it. If only she knew how awfully he was faring at the search.

 

The sun was starting to slant down on the pitch, catching the details on their robes, the morning dew on the grass. For a moment he miscalculates and it hits his eyes like dragon fire.

 

“Eren,” Mikasa shouts zooming past him as he jolts inelegantly.

 

When he opens them again his eyes are swimming with tears and Petra has dived off to the right, face painted with determination.

 

“Shit,” he mutters and goes after her. Everything is blurry but he’s too scared to risk the seconds it will take to drag his sleeve over his eyes. The girl in front of him is gaining speed and he still isn’t sure which of the sparkly sunspots is the snitch. He kicks down, pulls level and grasps at one blindly.

 

The crowd explodes.

 

His hand is empty.

 

 

 

 

 

It’s not like they’ve never lost before. But they’ve never lost because of him. All the pats on the shoulder can’t make up for it. Mikasa wants to talk about it, he can tell from the pleading look in her eyes, but there’s nothing to talk about. Maybe if he eats enough, it’ll silence the guilt in his stomach.

 

He bites into a drumstick morosely, replaying the scene in his head over and over like a Celestina Warbeck record: it’s awful. He was obviously distracted and he knows why, but it’s not the kind of thing you just go up to your teammates and tell them.

 

“I was kissed so I missed.”

 

He snorts and ignores Armin’s questioning look. The Ravenclaw is eating with them today as a show of solidarity. Their table as quiet as Hufflepuff’s is jubilant. Petra is beaming amid a throng of admirers, asking her to recount Eren’s fumble. She is, of course, too nice to do so and it just makes Eren angrier. If there’s anything worse than judgment, it’s pity.

 

He’s halfway through his seventh drumstick when Armin says, “Hey, isn’t that Levi.” The crowd around Petra parts as if to confirm it and Eren gets a front seat view of Levi’s arms wrapping around the Seeker, a proud smile on his face. He says something about a toast and the people around them roar in approval.

 

“What the hell,” Eren says.

 

“What is it?” Mikasa asks instantly.

 

“It’s nothing. I think I’m going to go to bed early.”

 

“But you haven’t even had the pudd–”

 

“I don’t want the fucking pudding.”  


“Suit yourself,” she says coolly and Eren knows he’s probably gone too far but it feels like a troll just stomped on his heart.

 

What if Levi kissed you to distract you, to make you lose? a nasty little voice in his head says.

 

No, Eren clenches his robes under the table, he wouldn’t do that. He doesn’t need to do that. This match doesn’t affect them.

 

Maybe he just wanted the laugh, it continues and Eren can’t help but look at the smile on Levi’s face in despair.

 

“Eren,” Armin says, as if he can read the brunette's mind.

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“Your hands are sha–”

 

“I _said I’m fine_!”

 

There’s a beat of silence and then a sea of heads is turning in his direction. He doesn’t even remember when he got to his feet. The whispering starts and suddenly he can’t bear to be in this room anymore. He grabs his wand from beside his plate, ducks his head and heads out the double doors of the Great Hall. His foot is on the first step of the staircase when someone calls his name, making him take a deep breath and turn around.

 

It’s Levi.

 

“What is it?”

 

“You tell me,” the older boy says, walking closer. From up here Eren is even taller than him and yet he feels like the smaller one. How does that work?

 

“Why did you kiss me?” he blurts out.

 

Levi raises a brow. “It doesn’t matter, why don’t we talk about what’s really bothering you right now?”

 

Eren snorts. “I thought so. Please feel free to go back and celebrate with your best friend.”

 

“I will,” Levi snaps, “as soon as you stop acting like a child and tell me what’s wrong.”

 

Child. The word makes Eren wilt. “Did you enjoy messing with me like that?” he says softly, one foot groping around for the next stair.

 

“What?” Levi reaches for his hand. “What are you talking about?”

 

“The kiss, it was to distract me, right? Poor Eren, he’s so fucking whipped he can’t even see the ball.” He grits his teeth. “Congratulations, it worked.”

 

“Please tell me you’re joking.” Levi is shaking his head. “You cannot seriously think that.”

 

“What else am I supposed to think? Jumping up to hug Annie when I lost? Celebrating with Petra? I thought I was the one you liked,” his voice cracks, “but I guess that’s what you get for trusting a Syltherin.”

 

Levi drops his hand like it’s burned him.

 

“Fuck you, Eren,” he says calmly, and then he’s gone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Hey, man,” Jean says nervously and Eren wants to strangle him with his pillow. Except he can’t because he needs it to muffle his sobs right now. “Are you crying?”

 

“I have a cold, just go to bed,” Eren growls.

 

“It wasn’t your fault, you know,” Jean whispers.

 

He did, but now he isn’t so sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short update to let you know yes, i am alive and yes, i do intend to finish this! it's just sometimes we have these irritating things called jobs that swallow our lives whole. >:(


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